


In No Way Was That Straight, Sonic

by masteremeraldholder



Series: It's Senior Year Already? [3]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: ADHD, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Character(s) of Color, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Homeopathy, Humor, M/M, Medicine, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Rated T for swearing, Sonic has ADHD, Sports, Track & Field, Trans Blaze the Cat, Trans Female Character, Trans Miles "Tails" Prower, but sonic is a pure bean who doesn't cuss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masteremeraldholder/pseuds/masteremeraldholder
Summary: “Wait, wait, wait,” Sonic sits up and shakes his head in disbelief, not like they could see him or anything. “Whaddya mean?”Believe it or not, there’s a chuckle in Knuckles’ voice as he replies, “Man, don’t tell me you forgot! The way you and Jet acted freshman year was really fuckin’ gay!”“I have to agree,” Tails says. “In no way was that straight, Sonic.”(Or Sonic offers Jet a ride home in the rain and what follows)





	In No Way Was That Straight, Sonic

**Author's Note:**

> wowie, this fic is jam packed with hcs!! here’s a list bc i like lists man
> 
> \- sonic’s last name is from jason griffith, my fav va for him  
\- sonic treating his adhd with homeopathy is loosely based off the book ‘a list of cages’ which is a really good read if you’re interested  
\- several/most of the characters are poc. if that makes you ‘uncomfortable’, yr racist and should probably leave now  
\- author does not have adhd

It’s not often that he’s woken in a manner this jarring. Especially since it’s not a weekday or a workday. Even still, a phone to the face is rather drastic.

“Ow! God!” Sonic cups his nose, blinks through the tears. Tails is sitting up from her spot on the couch, though she looks highly unamused and very tired. There’s drool on her pillow and her  _ Winnie the Pooh _ onesie is frumpy from sleep. “What gives?”

Tails yawns. “Your phone was goin’ off. It was under the sofa cushion.”

Under the cushion? Woah, had last night been that wild? The last thing Sonic remembered after binge-watching  _ Everybody Hates Chris  _ was making giant root beer floats and having a contest to see who could drink the most. (Surprisingly, it was Tails.) Wild night indeed.

“Yeah, but,” Sonic rubs his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you had ta’ send a fastball at me.”

Milessa hums somewhat confusedly. “Well, Knuckles told me to give it to him. It woke us both up.”

Oh, so Knucklehead’s the culprit? Figures. He’s super cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep.

“Dude, what the frick is your problem?” Sonic asks the lump on the other couch also known as Akeem Williams.

“Change yo’ ringtone,” Is all Knuckles says after he almost took off Sonic’s head with that frickin’ phone. “That shit’s annoying, man.”

But  _ Open Your Heart  _ is the best song ever! Knuckles is just a hater. A grumpy hater with a darn good arm.

“Answer it before it goes off again,” Tails mumbles, turning back over. Dang. She’s just as grouchy as Knuckles.

Sonic fumbles around in the recliner for his phone, blinking blearily at the bright screen. It’s barely six o’clock! Who would call him this early on a Saturday? Sonic huffs as he checks his notifications. A couple  _ Twitter _ alerts. A text from Bernie reminding him to get to bed at a reasonable time. (Yeah, right.) And two missed calls. Both from Coach Steph. What could she want?

He dials back, she answers on the second ring.

“Coach? What’s up?” Sonic asks placidly. He’s not nearly as crabby as his friends.

“Hey, Sonic. I know it’s early, but listen. I scheduled a practice this morning. Just for seniors.”

“A practice? Today?” This is unusual. Coach Stephanie doesn’t usually schedule extra practices this close to State because she wants them to rest. Usually, Sonic wouldn’t be bothered by such a request— spending his favorite day of the week doing what he loves the most. It’s just that he has plans this weekend.

A sleepover over at Tails’, then driving up to L.A. to a seminar where Tails’ favorite scientist Professor Pickle would be speaking, and finally, getting some good grub at _ Roscoe’s. _ It was going to be a great day. And now he had to miss it?

Coach sighs. “What do you not understand by  _ this morning,  _ Maurice? Yes, today. I want you on the track by seven. Y’all need the practice, believe me.”

“But we’ve been givin’ it our all afterschool! C’mon, Coach. Give us a break.”

“You’ll get a break when I see results. Now, stop arguin’ with me and get yo’ butt down here.” She hangs up.

It’s Sonic’s turn to sigh.

* * *

“Does it look dark to you?”

“Hm,” Blaze looks up to the overcast morning sky. “A little. It’ll probably clear up.” She takes a bite of raspberry scone.

Sonic wipes the doughnut glaze from his face, takes a sip of water. Coach had stopped to pick up some pastries as an incentive for having interrupted their Saturday. “Yeah,” He says.

Windy Hill is known for its lush landscape and pleasant weather year-round. It’s what draws so many tourists to the sleepy town. But this morning, it’s pretty dismal. Hm.

Sonic stretches down to his toes, then stands up and starts pacing. He’s feeling more jittery than usual. That sugary doughnut wasn’t the best thing to eat, especially considering that he hadn’t taken his drops yet. Whatever.

He paces back and forth until Blaze finishes her scone, then drops back down on the ground beside her. He wiggles his feet. Then legs. Drums his fingers against his scraped-up knees. He feels good.

A breeze blows. Coach Stephanie’s working with Mina and Sally now. Shadow and Omega are taking a break too. Jet’s jogging. Scourge is doing… whatever it is he does. It’s pretty lax.

“Wonder why Coach called us here,” Sonic muses aloud.

“To annoy us,” Analaa rolls her gold eyes. “I imagine she’s nothing better to do, seeing that she’s wasting her own day off too.”

Sonic says the first thing that comes to mind because when has he not? “Maybe she’s lonely.”

Blaze ponders on that, and she opens her mouth to respond except Coach Steph’s hearing is just as good as her 400-meter dash. Meaning, she heard their whole exchange from halfway across the track.

“If I was lonely,” She says, at which Blaze flushes slightly. “I sure as hell wouldn’t seek you jackasses out. And as much as I do like annoyin’ y’all, that isn’t the only reason why I called you here. Bring it in, guys.” She waves for them all to gather around. They do. “I called you here because this is it for y’all. This State Meet is the last time you’ve got to make your mark. To get scouted. I feel like I haven’t stressed that enough and—”

Sonic tunes out about there. It’s not like he means too. It’s just, he’s never been one for pep talks, mainly because he’s completely confused by the end of them. And partly because he swore he saw a raindrop fall. Maybe it was just his imagination? Only, another one falls, this time on Jet’s bare shoulder.  _ Woah. _

He’s always been rather impulsive, even more so when curiosity gets the best of him, so it’s no surprise that Sonic reaches out and taps the tawny brown skin of Jet’s shoulder. The raindrop is really there.

Of course, Miguel turns. His usual look of annoyance as increased threefold as he says in that nasally tone, “Whaddya want,  _ Ogilvie Maurice Griffith?” _

Sonic grits his teeth. “How many times do I have ta’ tell ya? It’s Sonic or Maurice. That’s gettin’ hecka annoyin’, man.”

Jet’s been doing that since Sonic met him freshman year. And each time he does it, Sonic contemplates leaving behind his nice-guy demeanor and decking Jet in the face. Not that he’s ashamed of his name or anything.

(But he doesn’t understand why Mom couldn’t give him just  _ Maurice. _ What the heck is an Ogilvie anyway? Thanks, Aleena.)

“Sonic!” Coach Steph barks. “What’n the hell’s so important that you have to interrupt me?”

He doesn’t get to answer. Because unlike how  _ Tony! Toni! Toné! _ put it, it starts raining in Southern California.

…

They’ve waited the rain out for maybe fifteen minutes. Doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. The picturesque field is but a shell of its former beauty.

“That’s some clear-up, huh?” Sonic jokes, nudging Blaze with his elbow as they watch the rain from inside the Athletic Center.

“That was some screwup, eh, Maurice?” Scourge rudely cuts in before Blaze can answer. “I mean, I didn’t think it was possible to fuck up somethin’ as simple as  _ listenin’,  _ but you sure proved me wrong.”

See why it’s so hard to be nice to Scourge?

“Whatever, dude,” Sonic brushes it off. “Go bother somebody else.”

“I’m not sure why he felt the need to do that,” Analaa says once Scourge is gone. “Coach Stephanie has already reprimanded you,” Yeah, for a whole ten minutes and in front of everyone. Definitely wasn’t one of his best moments. “Not that he’s a saint, either.”

Sonic cracks up at that. Blaze is hecka funny without meaning to be. The laughter’s got Sonic feeling so good that he stands up, shakes out some wiggles and starts doing bench hops with the bench they’re sitting on.

Blaze watches quietly for a bit. Then stands up and joins in. Sonic imagines they look like two health-crazed nuts.

“You’re… more active today,” She breathes between hops, which is just a fancy way of saying he’s unusually hyper. Sonic doesn’t take offense though. Blaze is cool about letting him know if he needs to tone it down a notch.

“Yeah. I didn’t get to run as much as I wanted.”

He never does. No amount of laps or drills can quench his innate need to  _ run.  _ Something about that is so calming. 

They hop until their legs hurt, and by then, the rain has slacked up a bit, and Coach has come from her office.

“Well, ain’t this somethin’!” Coach Steph remarks, hands on her hips. “You two jokers are finally doin’ somethin’ useful!” Blaze narrows her eyes as she dabs sweat from her forehead and neck with her towel and Sonic just laughs. That’s his natural response to anything. Coach motions for them all to gather around again before she continues. “Sadly, this rain ain’t goin’ anywhere, so there’s no reason for me to keep y’all here. You kids just head on home. Be safe. I’m gonna call every one of you in an hour to make sure you made it.”

“Geez, you act like yer our Ma,” Scourge is like. “My own folks don’t do all ‘a that.”

Sonic cannot understand what in the world compels Scourge to say the things he says.

Everyone’s expecting Coach to go off. But she just pulls her box braids up into a bun, something she does when she’s peeved and trying to calm herself. “Jesus, I need some coffee,” She turns back for her office. “Go home, bastards.”

…

Sonic is definitely happy to be heading home. It’s about nine-fifteen now. He can shower, get a quick nap in, and still be ready at eleven when Knuckles and Tails were planning to head to the seminar.

Is this great or what?

Everyone says goodbye and rush for their cars. Sonic hangs back to finish packing up his duffle. He expects everyone to be long gone, so it’s a surprise that he finds Jet pulling on his sportbike gear by the glass double doors. Wait… he’s not really gonna drive in this, is he?

Sonic doesn’t doubt his abilities or anything, but even the  _ Legendary Wind Master _ should have limits. And rain is a big no-no. Even Shadow— who must’ve been proactive and looked ahead at the forecast— left their motorcycle at home and they, quote,  _ “Really like that bike.” _

The rain picks up and Sonic’s conscience is in a tizzy. Ugh, why is he trying to help him? Jet’s almost as big a jerk as Scourge. (No one could ever top James Owen in jerkiness.)

Sonic’s good-natured attitude wins in the end. In weather conditions like this, four wheels are safer than two. End of story.

“What is it, Griffith?” Jet asks, annoyed. He’s got on a leather coat, goggles, and motorcycle boots, plus a huge backpack. How the heck did he even get here with that? “I’m sick of your ogling.”

Oh. Had he been staring? He didn't mean to. “M’not ogling,” Sonic plays it off. “I just can’t understand why you’d go through all the trouble of keepin’ a bike and not get somethin’ more… practical.”

“Well, that ain’t your business, is it? Buzz off.”

Yikes, must’ve struck a nerve there. Sonic tries again. “Hey, y’know I could give you a ride home. S’no problem.”

“I’d rather walk,” Jet says. “Wouldn’t wanna soil your  _ practical _ ride and all.” Harsh. “And m’not gonna leave my bike here. Are you thick? I can manage.”

“I know you can, but I’m not gonna let you. Didn’t you hear about that girl in Sky Road who died in a motorcycle accident? She lost control in the rain. She was a junior, Jet.”

Jet snorts. “What, are you worried about me?”

Sonic’s response is instant. “Yeah.”

A rare flush comes to Jet’s brown cheeks and he clears his throat awkwardly. Now would be a good time to point out that more than half of Sonic’s infamous  _ smooth talk _ is just his impulsivity and motor mouth. Not that anyone besides his friends know that. 

“Look, m’not lettin’ you leave,” He says before Jet can protest. “So, just come on, ‘kay? We can get somethin’ ta’ eat and wait for the rain to clear up, then I’ll bring you back here. Nothin’ big.”

Jet’s response is anything but instant. It takes him a full thirty seconds to relent. “Fine,” He says.

* * *

“You call this practical?” Jet throws his huge sack on the backseat, then fusses with the seatbelt. “This thing’s a fuckin’ deathtrap.”

Sonic shakes some water from his spiky hair, smooths down his mullet at the back. “Don’t insult Ol’ Blue like that. She’s a queen,” Sonic pats the dashboard affectionately. Ol’ Blue— his name for his  _ Camaro— _ has been with him since he bought her— with Mom’s help, of course— at the end of sophomore year. He spent the whole summer learning to drive a stick shift. Ahh, those were good times. So, yeah. Sonic is very protective of his car. “And it’s better’n ridin’ on that toy you call a bike. She  _ is _ practical.”

“You can’t even keep your hands to yourself,” Jet gripes. “What do you know about bein’  _ practical?” _

Well, he’s got a point. But still. “A-a raindrop hit your shoulder! I was makin’ sure I wasn’t seein’ things!”

Miguel rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You never take anything seriously.”

Oh, this is rich. “Dude, what the heck are you talkin’ about?”

“While you were pissin’ away time with your buddy, the rest of us were thinkin’ about our future. Y’know, like tryna make the most of the meet. College and shit. But I guess you wouldn’t know about that.”

God. Jet does the absolute most sometimes.

Sonic starts the car and slowly backs out. “What’re you worried about college for? We’re the  _ Fantastic Four, _ dude!” Jet scoffs at the name Coach had given them— the varsity 4x100-meter relay team, which consists of Shadow, Scourge, Jet, and Sonic as anchor. Looked like Sonic was the only fan of the name. Shadow and Scourge hated it too. “We’ve got one of the fastest times in the state! And you’re super good at javelin too. You’ve literally got nothin’ to worry about.”

“There ya go with your useless optimism. Can it. Damn, all you listen to is rock? I’m gettin’ a frickin’ headache,” Jet complains. Apparently, that’s all he can do.

One song has played from Sonic’s shuffled playlist so far—  _ Endless Possibility,  _ another favorite of his— and it just happened to be rock. It’s like the only thing Jet’s good at is insulting him.

Sonic coasts through a large puddle. The windshield wipers are going at full blast. At this rate, it’d take forever to get anywhere. Where were they going anyway? “Nah,” He reaches for the volume knob, turns it down a bit. “I like rap too. I’ve gotta  _ Tupac _ CD, wanna listen to that?”

“Which one?”

_ “Greatest Hits. _ I couldn’t decide on just one album, I mean, they’re all so good! So, Bernie got it for me. Mom even listens to it sometimes.” And that was an experience on its own.  _ Secretary of State of California  _ Aleena Griffith was indeed a  _ Tupac _ fan.

Mom and Bernie have been together since Sonic, Sonia, and Manic were little. Bernadette Smith’s been holding down everything at home while Mom’s in Sacramento. Between keeping the Griffith household from eminent combustion  _ and _ teaching advanced math, a senior level class, she’s a fricking beast.

“Okay,” Jet says. “Didn’t need ta’ hear your life story. No thanks.”

Shutdown again.  _ Man. _ “How ‘bout  _ Michael Jackson?” _ That’s Sonic’s next favorite artist.

“How about nothin’?”

“Fine.”

And so, the two sit in silence. No music. No conversation.  _ Silence.  _

It’s miserable.

Sonic doesn’t know how anyone could enjoy sitting idle. That’s like his biggest fear. (Along with not being able to run.) He chews his lip and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. Hums along with the rain hitting the hood of the car. He signals to turn, then glances over at Jet.

Miguel Silva is a handsome dude. Clear skin and a nice smile. Sea blue eyes. A few piercings and those way sick tattoos on his forearms which up his coolness by ten points. His most striking features are his large nose and long, green hair. So long that he keeps it in a high ponytail for most of the time.

Jet shrugs off his wet coat, revealing full, broad shoulders. Probably from years of training at javelin. Windy Hill’s the only school in the county that allows javelin and hammer throw.

He crosses his arms, closes his eyes, his head falling back on the headrest. Jet’s worn red eyeshadow under his eyes for the longest. It’s his  _ thing. _ Hm. Must be waterproof too since it hasn’t come off in the rain.

“Can you stop starin’ at me like a creep?”

He’d been caught a second time and Jet’s eyes weren’t even open. Geez. “M’not starin’! It’s just… you’ve got chill bumps,” Which Sonic realizes makes it obvious that he definitely was staring. “Are you cold?”

“No.”

Sonic turns on the heat. Warm air hits his cheeks and nose. The chill bumps on Miguel’s muscled arms— but not overly muscled like Knuckles— disappear. Sonic hums some more as he slows for a stop sign.

“Can’t you be quiet?” Jet says.

“Can’t you talk!” Because this silence is really eating him up. “You had so much to say earlier.”

Jet actually laughs at that. It’s a squawky kind of laugh. Like a bird. “I don’t understand you. One minute, you’re a jackass. And the next, you’re… amusing.”

Amusing? Sonic doesn’t at all understand his word choice. “Well, same ta’ you. I mean, I didn’t think of you to be one worried about college.”

“I-I’m not worried! I’m…  _ aware. _ More than you, at least.”

“I’m aware,” Sonic laughs wryly. “Believe me, Mom’s makin’ me  _ very _ aware. I guess… I distract myself from it a lot.”

“I get that.”

Shut the front door. Is Jet actually agreeing with him?

“You do?” Sonic glances to his right, not at all expecting Jet to be staring back at him. His eyes. There’s something there. But Sonic can’t place it.

“Yeah. I do.”

Jet looks away just as quickly, fondling with the dyed ends of his hair. He seems… different.

It’s quiet for a sec. Just them and the rain. Miguel examines the string of heart beads hanging from the rearview.

“Amy made that for me when we were dating,” Sonic tells him.

He lets go of the necklace. “You and Girlie broke up?”

“Yeah. We’re better as friends.” And they are.

Jet goes quiet again. Then reaches for the volume knob. There’s another rock song playing. It’s completely coincidental. “Christ, I can’t take this anymore, where’s the  _ Tupac _ CD?”

* * *

“Is  _ Sonic _ okay?” Sonic asks.

A simple yes or no would suffice. But Jet’s not one to be easy.  _ “Deus,” _ He says. “You’re a narcissist.”

_ “Sonic _ it is.”

They’ve been driving for maybe twenty minutes and have just now made it to the business district of town. It’s still raining and Sonic’s stomach is growling. Those doughnuts were all he had today, and that was an hour ago.

Sonic signals to turn, careful to miss the puddles, and hits the gas a bit harder to get up the incline. There’s like one other car here, being that it’s raining and kinda early, so Sonic is able to pull into a spot towards the front.

He pulls up the emergency brake. Turns to Jet. “Wanna get out?”

“It’s  _ raining.” _

“That means we’ll have somethin’ ta’ watch while we eat!” 

Sonic cuts the ignition and hops out before Jet can protest. He splashes in a puddle or two as he dashes up the walk. Water’s soaking his socks through his  _ Roshe,  _ but he doesn’t care. Puddles are too fun to pass up.

He shuffles from foot to foot as he waits for Jet in front of the huge menu screen. Jet appears a beat later, though he’s back in his running sneakers. He must’ve hung back to change. Sonic wonders why. His boots are red, black, and white. Totally cool.

“You actually eat this trash?” Jet wonders aloud, scowling at the screen. Nah,  _ scowl _ is too harsh. That’s just his normal face.

“I-it’s good! Quality trash!”

“Yeah. I bet you thought that junk Coach fed us was  _ good _ too?”

“Yeah!”

Jet’s left eye twitches. That’s how much he’s squinting. “Aren’t you aware of the stuff you put in your body?”

For the most part, yeah. But  _ Sonic’s _ like the only fast food he’ll eat. And that’s only ‘cause of the chili dogs.

“Gee, Jet. It almost sounds like you’re worried about me,” Sonic says.

Jet gives a curt, “Shaddap and order,” before heading off to the tables.

That’s some pretty good advice.

So, Sonic gives his order— a footlong chili cheese coney for himself and a cheeseburger for Jet since he hadn’t said anything— and pays using his meager employee discount, then heads over to the table. Jet chose the one beside the flowerbeds. Thankfully, the table isn’t too wet. The rain’s finally starting to slow up a bit.

Sonic sits down beside him, their legs brushing slightly as he does so. Even though there are three other seats he could’ve chosen from, something told him to sit  _ there.  _ Again, Sonic isn’t sure why he listens to half of the thoughts in his head.

“Hope you like cheeseburgers,” He says.

Jet blinks. Is he shocked? “You didn’t have ta’ do that. I was gonna pay.”

“It’s no biggie. I get a discount,” He smiles in what he hopes is a polite and friendly manner. But Jet just eyes him oddly. Squints. He’s leaning in close, so close Sonic can see the faint moles on his cheeks and chin. Sonic squirms under the intensity of his gaze. What does he want?

When it seems like Sonic is about to wiggle completely off the bench, Jet says, “There’s a bump on your nose.”

Oh. A bump.

“Oh,” Sonic says. “I got hit this mornin’.”

“Hit?”

“Knuckles threw my phone at me.”

Jet ponders on the thought for a bit. Then does the oddest thing. He reaches out and touches the bump on the bridge of Sonic’s nose. No lie.

“Ow!” Sonic winces. It’s still pretty tender.

“I couldn’t tell if it was a freckle. You’ve got so many,” Jet smirks as he pulls his hand back. Does he revel in Sonic’s pain? Probably.

…

Neither act to put some distance between them. Not even when Jet’s phone rings. His ringtone is some fast-paced  _ Samba _ song that Sonic can’t place.

It’s Coach. She’s a woman of her word. Jet grumbles as he answers. He’s like a crabby grandpa. 

“S’up, Coach?” His fingers go to the darker green ends of his hair. Must be a habit of his. His hair looks so thick and soft. Sonic wants to run his fingers through it. Will it tangle? “Uh-huh. M’with Griffith. Yeah. Okay. Next week? I guess. Uh-huh. Later.”

Man, what happened to courtesy? That conversation was hardly even twenty-five seconds! But that’s besides the point.

Sonic asks, “What’d she say?”

“She wants ta’ talk ta’ us again next week.”

“Yeah, what else?” Because there just had to be more.

“And… she seemed  _ surprised _ that we’re… here together.”

Sonic laughs. Because it is a shocker. When he woke up this morning, he didn’t at all think that he’d spend his day with Miguel Silva.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” He nudges Jet’s beefy arm with his elbow.

“Don’t push it.”

But Sonic swears he sees the beginnings of a grin on Jet’s face.

Anyway, their food shows up after that. Their carhop is a familiar face.

“Hey, Sonic!” His real name is Murray Johnson, but he goes by Chip. It’s even on his name tag. That’s what everyone knew him by for the longest until he remembered what his given name was. Sonic should know. He gave him the nickname. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much,” Sonic gives Chip a high five before he goes about unloading his tray. “Just takin’ it easy. Slow mornin’ here, eh?”

“Yeah… it sure would be a good day ta’ see you skate. You’re the fastest!”

Jet actually scoffs at that. Hater. It’s not Sonic’s fault that he’s fast on skates, feet, and tires.

“Aw, maybe next time, bro. I don’t have ‘em with me.”

“That’s fine, it was good ta’ see you anyway! I haven’t seen you around much lately. Been busy?”

“Super busy! I’ll have ta’ make time for just the two of us, then.”

Chip’s face lights up and he gives Sonic a fist bump. “C-cool!” He grabs his tray. “Bye, Sonic! Bye, Mister Scary Guy!”

Jet at least waits until Chip’s back inside before he goes off. “Scary? Is that really the best he could come up with? And who was that kid anyway? A  _ fan _ of yours?”

It shocks Sonic that he doesn’t know who Chip is. Chip’s barely five feet tall with dark brown skin, big eyes, and chubby cheeks. The front locks of his coily hair are dyed white with the rest being burgundy. He’s not one to be forgotten or looked over.

“Nah, he’s a friend. A  _ good _ friend,” Chip came into Sonic’s life in that awkward time when puberty started. Yeah.  _ Way _ awkward. “And you do look scary, dude. Your forehead’s always creased! Relax, yo.”

“Whatever. Have you even read an SAT book? Get a better vocabulary. And a good friend, eh? You seem to have a lot ‘a those.”

“A few,” Sonic says, reaching for the bag. He pulls out his chili dog, pushes Jet his burger. Jet doesn’t try to hide his grimace.

It doesn’t occur to Sonic until he’s started in on his coney why Jet said that. Miguel isn’t the jealous type, at least he hasn’t been since freshman year when they had beef. Is that jealous streak returning? Or even sadder— does Jet not have friends? Nah, that couldn’t be it.

So, what is it?

Geez, everything’s so confusing when Jet’s around. And to make matters worse, Sonic is getting so restless that he can hardly sit still, let alone think right. He still hadn’t taken his drops. Crap.

“BRB,” Sonic jumps up, sprints to  _ Ol’ Blue. _ He finds his spare bottle of drops in the console underneath some receipts and stinky sweatbands in desperate need of washing. Thank goodness.

Sonic slides back in beside Jet, shaking the bottle a bit. There’re a lot of homeopathic liquids out there, but he takes  _ Synaptol.  _ It’s made with a ton of herbs, none of that junk that made him sick last year. He feels less edgy with the drops. And the best part is it doesn’t even have a taste.

Sonic pops the lid on his cup of water. Ten to twelve drops would do it. He’d have to finish eating before drinking it, though.

“S’that a new thing people are doin’?” Jet dips a fry into some ketchup. The burger’s still untouched. “Puttin’ random shit in their water?”

Sonic snickers. “Nah! Y’know how I’ve got ADHD?”

“Yah?”

“It’s for that. The medicine I used ta’ take made me weird.”

Jet sips his soda. “Weird?”

“Yeah, I was sad. And sick. Throwin’ up a lot. S’why I take drops. Bernie looked into it for a while before I started ‘em. I was hopeful since the results are different for everyone. And they are good.  _ Really _ good. I get clarity that I haven’t had before,” And before he knows it, Sonic has gone on for five minutes about how much better his life’s been with the drops. He doesn’t realize it until Jet sighs. And an ugly feeling wells up in his chest. Is he that annoying to be around? Sonic blushes, twists the blue hair at the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I talk too much. S’okay to tell me ta’ shut up.”

Jet actually seems surprised. His bushy eyebrows are raised. “For what?”

“And m’sorry for touchin’ you without consent. That’s important.”

“I was just bein’ a jerk— wait, why’re you so touchy all of the sudden?” Jet’s eyes are slits. Suspicious.

“I’ve just had some bad experiences,” Sonic leaves it at that. How can he explain the many hobbies he’s lost from being embarrassed about his illness? (Singing, guitar, and tennis just to name a few.) Or the godawful looks he’s gotten from old people who can’t understand why he’s the way he is? A pansexual, oh, he’s going to hell. All ‘a that crap. “S’all.”

“Haven’t we all?”

Sonic thinks on that for a bit. He supposes that was a rather selfish thing to say. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” He tells Jet, then takes another bite of chili dog. The rain’s almost gone. It’s just sprinkling now. “What about yours?”

“My what?”

“Your bad experiences.”

Jet winces, though Sonic doesn’t know why. Then he gruffly asks, “What’s it matter ta’ you?”

“We’re just talkin’,” Sonic shrugs. Jet’s so frickin’ hard to read. Sonic can never be sure of what he means. “Whatever, don’t tell me then.”

“Okay, I will, shut up, alright?”

See? What the heck was that?

It takes him a while to start. But when he does, it’s not all what Sonic expected. “My folks immigrated here from  _ Brasil. _ They travel… a lot. They’re entrepreneurs lookin’ to invest in businesses owned by people of color.”

“That’s way past cool!” It really is. And it hardly seems like a bad experience. Seeing the world, meeting new people, and making sure everyone gets representation. That’s right up Sonic’s alley. (And that explains the Portuguese too.)

“Yeah…” Jet pokes the sesame seed bun with his finger, trailing off.  _ “Cool…”  _

Sonic balls up his coney wrapper and wipes his face too. He’s a pretty messy eater. “You don’t sound happy.”

“It’s a lot on my shoulders. School. Track. Learnin’ about the business,” Jet blinks suddenly. Like he can’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth. “Why am I tellin’ you this?”

“‘Cause,” Sonic drawls. “I’m the only one here right now. I can be a good listener… sometimes.”

That gets a laugh outta him. But it’s short-lived.  _ “Sometimes _ isn’t a thing in our house. Either it is or it ain’t. My parents come home. Or they bail.”

For once, Sonic doesn’t have a witty comeback. “You mean…”

“Yeah. No one’s there. It’s just me, Wave, and Storm. Alone in that huge fuckin’ house. Friends of the family come check in every once in a while. But that’s it. We’re lucky if they come back for holidays.”

“That’s… way past not cool.”

“Yeah,” Jet won’t make eye contact. Just stares at that frickin’ burger like it’s evil. Sonic wonders if he’s got a phobia. “I remember eatin’ nothin’ but cheeseburgers one year for  _ Christmas. _ Me and Storm can’t cook, and Wave was at some convention. So, that was the next best thing… I hate ‘em now.”

Okay, not exactly a phobia, more of a bittersweet memory. But still just as painful.

It hurts to see Jet like this. They hadn’t had the best relationship freshman year. But that’s all in the past. Right now, he needs a shoulder to lean on.

So, Sonic closes the already small gap between them. Takes Jet’s veiny hand. They’re hip to hip. Hand in hand. Together.

“Maybe,” Sonic says softly. “They know your potential and what you can do. So, they keep pushing you to do more. At least, that’s what my mom tells me.”

Jet finally looks at him. Sonic gets the urge to touch his face. To know every pore, every inch of his coppery skin. To smooth his fingertips over the worry lines between his eyebrows. And let him know it would alright.

“Sonic?” Jet asks.

This shocks him a bit since Jet usually calls him Maurice or Griffith. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

This doesn’t shock him. Partly because he was close to asking Jet the same thing.

“Yeah,” Sonic says.

This can’t be right. It feels like a dream. Too good to be true. Sonic pinches his thigh with his free hand. But Jet’s really leaning in. This is really happening!

Sonic closes his eyes. Lets himself be in the moment. It doesn’t have to make sense or be right. But it  _ feels _ right.

He waits for that moment when their lips touch, wonders if Jet’s lips are as soft as they look. He waits. And waits. Until Sonic has to open his eyes to see what’s the hold-up.

He figures Jet’s got cold feet. That’s understandable. He doesn’t expect to find Jet cracking up.

“Hey,” Sonic’s like. “What’s so funny!”

Jet actually wipes a tear from his eye. “Your breath smells like hell!”

Sonic isn’t hurt by that. It takes a particular palate to like chili dogs.

“Crap,” He downs his drop-infused cup of water. (It’s been fifteen minutes, hasn’t it?) “Better?” Sonic blows out a breath.

“Hell nah!” Jet sputters, still laughing. “That shit reeks!”

Sonic smacks his lips. “Like you’ve never had bad breath before!”

“Not like that!”

“Shut up!”

…

“This doesn’t make any sense… I mean, how can I wanna beat someone… and kiss ‘em at the same time?” Jet says between kisses. He looks relaxed. There’s no crease in the valley between his eyebrows. His lips aren’t curved into a scowl. And each time Sonic dips down to meet his lips, he lets out this low sigh. It sends shivers down Sonic’s back.

“Uh, I dunno,” Sonic laughs softly, running his fingers over Jet’s chin. Cheeks. Slim lips. He’s got a ring there in his bottom lip. “Makes things interesting, I guess.”

They’re in the car now. Sitting in the empty gym parking lot back at school. Even Sonic had to agree it’d be pretty out there to makeout in public. A car? That’s another thing. But Jet didn’t put up a fight when Sonic suggested it anyway. Now two peppermints later, they’re jammed up on the cramped backseat. Sonic’s perched rather awkwardly on Jet’s lap, being that the roof’s low and all, but he isn’t complaining.

Jet snorts, but leans into Sonic’s touch and closes his eyes. He’s got long, dark eyelashes. “Hm,” He mumbles. And the corners of his lips turn upward ever so slightly. He’s smiling and it isn’t for a malicious reason? Who is this person!

“You good?” Sonic asks.

Jet draws languid circles on Sonic’s thigh with his calloused thumb. “Yeah,” He says, then hums along with the  _ Tupac _ song that’s playing.  _ Keep Ya Head Up. _

Sonic can’t resist pressing his lips to Jet’s forehead, nose, neck, and any other place he pleases. He smells good. Like clean linen with a hint of sweat.

“Good,” Sonic says.

* * *

Sonic’s toweling his hair dry and pulling on a long-sleeved tee when _Open Your Heart _cuts through the calm quiet of his bedroom. He grabs his phone from the dresser. It’s Knuckles— or as his contact says, _prince akeem._ _Coming to America_ is a classic, okay?

But even that’s not enough to drag Sonic out of the dumps. It’s well past eleven— almost twelve o’clock!— meaning, he missed riding to the seminar with the rest of  _ Sonic Heroes. _ Of course, he could come separately in his own car, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, they’re probably almost to the seminar now if traffic isn’t too bad. L.A. is a beast.

That’s only half of his woes. The other half is named Miguel Silva.

After Sonic dropped Jet off at school— not before they kissed until Sonic’s lips were numb— he came home feeling dissatisfied for some reason. He took a shower, figuring that would help him to stop moping around. Spoiler: it didn’t. He’s not sure what’s more upsetting. That he was too slow to keep up with his friends or that he left Jet only to be alone. He feels boxed in. A crappy conclusion to such a great morning.

“Hey, Knux. The seminar started?” Sonic answers, flopping down on his bed and mashing his face into the pillows. Ugh. They were kinda funky. He needs to wash.

“Hell nah!” Knuckles sounds both pissed off and incredulous. He’s got a way of mixing different emotions into his tone until it’s unclear what’s actually the problem. Sonic gets that. “Dude, Tails made us leave two hours early ‘cause she said it was _ ‘gon’ be packed.’ _ Nobody’s here! The Pickle guy ain’t even here yet!”

Sonic hears Tails in the back, “Don’t get upset because I’m punctual.”

“Milessa, please don’t start.” Gosh, they even sound like a married couple.

“Hold up, are you serious?” Sonic asks, oblivious to his friends’ bickering. “You’re kidding! It hasn’t started yet?”

“Sonic,” Tails deadpans in that voice that means she’s getting sick of both of them. “I’m a perfectionist and this guy doesn’t chuckle. Why would we kid about something like this?”

Sonic can’t believe it. If he left now, he could make it there with time to spare! Radical!

“Anyway,” Knuckles tells him. “I was just tryna let you know that you could make it. We ain’t goin’ nowhere.  _ Someone _ says if we leave, we’ll lose our spot.”

Tails ignores Akeem’s complaining. “I can’t believe practice was that long.”

Sonic hesitates. “Uh, yeah. Coach… had a lot to tell us.”

Why is he hesitating? Is he scared to tell them about Jet? Is Jet what’s stopping him from getting on the road? So many questions, yet no answers.

“Killer,” Milessa buys his fib. “I can’t believe she scheduled a Saturday practice too! I mean, she…”

Sonic tunes her out. He just can’t stop thinking about Jet.

(How he helped Jet wipe the rain off his bike. And how Jet opened up to him about those hecka cool boots he wears. They were a gift from his  _ pai— _ which Sonic learned was Portuguese for dad— when he first learned how to ride.)

Sonic’s chest is filled with something he can’t place. Warmth. Security.

(How the hair on Jet’s legs stood up when Sonic kissed behind his ear. How their noses  _ booped _ together. Soft and sweet.)

He suddenly feels anxious. Rightfully so. Despite it feeling safe and warm, this is also new. Like newborn new. And Sonic doesn’t wanna rush it. He does that so much already.

Geez, he hates this part of his ADHD. The self-doubt. It sneaks up on him at the oddest times. Leaves him feeling dirty and sticky. He always wants to take a shower afterward. Ugh. Sonic exhales so sharply that his bangs blow up.

“Damn,” Knuckles’ voice brings him back to reality. “What’s eatin’ you, Sonic? Practice was that rough?”

Sonic supposes coming clean with his friends would be the right thing to do. Yet, there’s another part of him that wants to keep Jet a secret. To see where this goes without others being involved. But there’s also the fact that Sonic’s never been good with secrets anyway. Gives him too much anxiety.

So, he goes for it. No use in lying. “Nah, actually… it’s just… s’it okay if I bring someone with me?”

The line goes silent for a bit. Knuckles says, “Uh, who?”

“Jet.”

It goes silent again. Then, “Tails, you hear this?”

“Yeah,” Tails doesn’t even sound surprised. “I mean, it was bound to happen.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sonic sits up and shakes his head in disbelief, not like they could see him or anything. “Whaddya mean?”

Believe it or not, there’s a chuckle in Knuckles’ voice as he replies, “Man, don’t tell me you forgot! The way you and Jet acted freshman year was really fuckin’ gay!”

“I have to agree,” Tails says. “In no way was that straight, Sonic.”

In the solitude of his room, Sonic’s cheeks turn a dark red. His hands are sweaty, his face is hot. He’s on  _ fire. _ “Huh?” is all he can muster.

“Yeah!” Knuckles continues. “The teasing and witty banter.”

Tails jumps in, “The constant competition.”

Knuckles again, “And he always stared at you when yo’ back was turned.”

“It was rather creepy,” Tails muses.

Knuckles is quick to say otherwise. “Nuh-uh. That’s  _ pining,  _ Milessa.”

“You’re right,” Tails agrees.

Sonic still can’t do more than stutter and fidget. So much for the drops. “Y-you mean he’s liked me that long?”

Tails quips, “Yep!”

That hits Sonic in the gut. How could Jet have gone four years— four  _ long, hard  _ years— carrying that? And how was Sonic oblivious to it? Christ!

“S’fine if you bring him along,” Knuckles tells him. “Might liven things up. We literally sitting in a empty parking lot, yo. By the way, I didn’t mean to clock you this mornin’. My bad. I was aimin’ for yo’ stomach.”

Like that’s any better! “Hold on, are you actually apologizin’?” Sonic is in disbelief. He feels like his brain is on overload.

“You make it sound like I don’t.”

“You  _ don’t.” _

“Good point.”

…

Sonic dials the newest contact in his phone after hanging up with Knuckles.  _ mister scary guy.  _ Jet answers on the first ring.

“Yeah?”

Sonic jumps right in. “How come you didn’t tell me you liked me since freshman year?”

“Wh-what?” Jet’s voice cracks. It’s so cute. “Uh,  _ like _ is a strong word.”

“But I thought I annoyed you! Even now… you sounded pissed when we were at  _ Sonic.” _

“Pissed?” Jet repeats. Then he remembers. “No, dummy. I sighed because… I kinda like hearin’ you talk.”

For the life of him, Sonic can’t find anything to say to that. His mind is practically TV static.

“Say somethin’, will ya?” Jet barks.

“Somethin’.”

Jet laughs. Sonic likes the sound. He falls back on the pillows, stares up at the ceiling. That feeling of warmth and security falls over him like a blanket.

Jet tells him, “I’m not… good at expressin’ myself or whatever. But if you’re wonderin’, I don’t care that you’ve got an illness— I mean I do care, obviously, but what I mean is—”

It’s Sonic’s turn to laugh. “I get it! You care about me. But the illness isn’t a dealbreaker.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet. Sonic wishes Jet were here with him.

“You never told me your bad experience?” Jet asks.

Sonic can’t believe he remembered that. “Nothin’, just crap dealing with my ADHD. People are buttheads.”

“Yeah. They are.” Jet sounds like he knows from experience.

Sonic says, “You’re a good person, y’know?”

“And you’re not a shitty person either.”

He smiles to himself. Flexes his feet. “Hey, you wanna come to a seminar with me? S’in L.A.”

Jet’s response is instant. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- roscoe’s chicken and waffles is a restaurant in california that’s probably the best thing in the world  
\- you can’t tell me that what happened in sonic riders/sonic riders zero gravity was straight bc that shit was gay with a capital damn g  
\- [super cute art](https://princesadaisy.tumblr.com/post/187426211060/so-sonjet-has-completely-taken-over-my-life-and-i#notes) that you should really fucking look at bc it’s lit!!


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